


Nothing up my sleeve

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Demons, Humor, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-10
Updated: 2003-05-10
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley wakes up. And rather wishes he hadn't.





	Nothing up my sleeve

Crowley stalked his prey through the streets of London, an evil scowl on his face. He waited until Aziraphale emerged from the grocer's, and pounced.

"What the bloody hell do you think you've been up to?" he snarled.

"Beg pardon?" Aziraphale said mildly. "Would you like to come to supper? I haven't seen you for a while."

Crowley spluttered with rage.

"I take _one_ little nap and wake up to find the world's turned upside down! Where the hell did slavery go? Why are there vaguely reasonable religious movements in this city? Why is there talk about social reform? How come women are agitating for political rights? Why are books suddenly affordable by ordinary people? I'm very annoyed with you, Aziraphale."

The angel looked at him in vague concern.

"Dear me," he said. "I think you must still be half asleep, otherwise you wouldn't have come out in public in that state."

"What? What's wrong with me?" Crowley asked suspiciously. 

He took a quick look around. His clothing seemed to fit in with what he saw, and as the idea of being dishevelled had never crossed his mind, he was neat and tidy. Aziraphale tutted and reached up to his hat.

"This was tucked behind your ear," he said, producing a large paper flower with what Crowley could only describe as a flourish. "Have you been playing dress-up?"

Crowley glared at the flower in amazement, and it burst into flames. Aziraphale shook his head sadly.

"Silly boy, you're just _covered_ in the things."

He produced a few more hideously coloured flowers from Crowley's pockets and collar. It was only when he took an entire bunch from under Crowley's nice silk hat that he seemed to understand he was in extreme danger and meekly put his hands by his sides.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Crowley hissed. "These are _human_ tricks, aren't they?"

"I haven't seen you in a hundred years," Aziraphale said. "I had to do _something_ with my spare time. Come on, come to supper. We can go dancing later."

"Dancing?" Crowley said in despair and horror. "You've taken up dancing?"

Aziraphale linked arms with him and shot him a kind and understanding smile.

"Don't worry, the gavotte's easy enough once you get used to it. I'll show you, you don't have to be nervous."

As he was dragged along, Crowley wished he'd never bothered waking up.


End file.
